by Tamsin Ley
She roused as his tail scraped the rocky bottom, her sleepy thoughts reaching for him, seeking comfort.
Zantu? Where are we?
He set her feet against the floor. You must go home, my angelfish.
She groped for him, fingers slipping against his shoulders. Wait! I don’t understand!
He gritted his teeth and dove beneath the waves, swimming fast and far out to sea.
Don’t leave me! Zantu!
Her cries followed him clear to the edge of the wild deeps.
Zantu cruised the watery interface where the cold northern waters met the current off the kelp beds. Since abandoning Brianna, the dark waters of the wild deeps seemed to call his soul. He’d spent the last four moons scouring the bottom for treasure. His nest was crowded with human items, from gilded picture frames to unidentifiable plastic machines.
But none of it was the human thing he wanted.
He circled the long metal box from a cargo ship that had lodged on a ledge. This one appeared undamaged. The lower current’s cold water had seeped into his bones, and his fingers were stiff as he lifted a chunk of basalt to bash the lock. Merpeople didn’t have the layer of blubber that kept whales and other sea mammals warm in northern waters, and he’d already been down here past his usual endurance. But finding human artifacts was the only thing that interested him since leaving Brianna, so he kept at it.
The rusty metal lock crumbled under the impact. Once it was removed, he put a shoulder beneath the bar securing the door and pushed. The latch gave with a rusty, hollow grating sound, as did the hinges as he opened the door. He squinted and sent forth a sonic query to judge the contents.
Mounds of rotted textiles.
Disappointment sank him to the stony outcropping. Ruined by the sea. That seemed to be the story of most things human down here. Broken. Decayed. Unable to survive.
The familiar drumbeat of a whale reached him, and he realized he’d been resting too long. His joints were stiff with cold, and his heart seemed to struggle to beat. Going to sleep seemed like a good idea.
The whale thumped the water, calling to the krill it sought to consume. Whales were one of the few creatures, fish or mammal, to have words in its song. Rubac swore they were the keepers of myth and still grieved over the lost opportunity to elevate his child.
Zantu thought about his last meeting with one, when Brianna had been by his side. The creature hadn’t denied the magic of elevation, so maybe the myth had some truth.
But it had said something else, too. Something just now returning to his memory. I’ve not seen a mated human in over a century. You have much to learn.
Zantu frowned, blood pumping a little harder. What was there to learn? Was there something he’d missed? Gathering his strength, he forced his cold muscles to carry him upward toward the whale’s song.
He found the whale circling near the surface, its massive, scarred body black against the light.
“Great whale,” Zantu called. The frigid waters had sapped him of his voice, and the whale took no notice of the small visitor, continuing its wide-mouthed sweep through the clouds of krill. He tried again. “Great whale, I have a question.”
The whale continued to ignore him, thumping the water.
Zantu bolstered his song. “Please, I have a human bond-mate. I need your help.”
The whale’s thumping paused, its barnacled body slowing its loop through the swarm. It turned its great black eye upon him. “Bond-mate?” the creature grated. “How did this happen?”
The story flowed out like a riptide, of how he’d happened upon her, how she’d proven herself loyal, how he’d been forced to set her free. The retelling left Zantu mentally exhausted.
The whale resumed its circle through the krill. “If she cannot be with you, why do you not join her?”
Zantu’s mind spun. “Join her? How would I do that?”
“Humans and merfolk separated ways not so very long ago in the timeline of the world. You can breathe air, can you not?”
Although mermen avoided the surface, Zantu had indeed breathed air a handful of times and knew that to be true. “Yes, but breathing air is only one piece of things. She lives on land. With legs.”
The whale’s drumbeat call sounded like laughter. “Have the merfolk truly lost all knowledge of their magic? As you can give the gift of the ocean with water breathing to her, she can give the gift of land to you.”
Zantu’s mind reeled. “Do you mean legs?”
“True bond-mates compromise to be together. Sometimes one gives more, sometimes another. It is the way of things if they wish to be together.”
“I could live on land,” Zantu said, rolling the words around as if tasting the idea.
“Indeed,” the whale sang and swiped its tail to pursue the retreating cloud of krill.
“Wait! How?”
But the whale didn’t stop. Its words floated back in an echo of song. “If you’re bonded, you already know.”
Zantu wasn’t sure what that meant. But he meant to find out. Reenergized with new hope, he aimed himself for the surface.
Chapter Twelve
SURROUNDED BY THE scent of rotting seaweed and salt, Brianna rose from the damp stone and snapped shut the picnic basket that’d held her lunch. Facing the sea, she brushed bits of sand from her cotton capri pants. As always, the slate-gray ocean whispered to her, waves kissing the shore with promises never kept. Sometimes the water cleared the beach, leaving pristine pebbles glinting in the sun. Sometimes it left lines of garbage. Today the beach was clear.
She called with her mind as she did every time before she left the cove, Zantu!
As usual, only silence in return.
Perhaps her therapist was correct. Her time in the ocean had been a hallucination. Her mate a myth.
As if in disagreement, the child within her rolled, a sensation like tiny bubbles. She placed her hand over her barely rounded belly. “Don’t worry, little one. I know I’m not crazy.”
Upon her forced return to land, she’d climbed the stairs to the small house. The driftwood-gray structure had obviously been vacant for a long time, but the door was unlocked, and inside she’d found some old clothes. After a short walk down the dirt lane, she’d reached the highway, flagged down a car, and made it back to town.
Within the week, Eric had signed her divorce paperwork without question. Soon after, she’d discovered she was pregnant. The idea of raising a child alone broke her heart, but she knew there’d never be another man in her life. Zantu was her mate and always would be.
She’d bought the small cliff house overlooking Zantu’s beach and taken a position at the nearby marine research center. Granted, she was only a bookkeeper, but being near the fish and other creatures felt like home.
And, sometimes, she swore she could hear them singing.
Placing her sandaled feet carefully over the uneven beach stones, she headed toward the stairs up to the house. The tide was coming in, and although she sometimes dreamed of throwing herself back into the ocean’s embrace, she knew better than to hope to be saved a second time. Plus she now had another life to consider.
The brisk breeze at her back seemed to call her name as she walked, stones crunching beneath her feet. Brianna…
She paused, cocking her head and closing her eyes to accept the wind’s caress. She often dreamed like this, her name upon her lover’s lips, the sensation of the word along her skin.
Brianna…
She opened her eyes. This wasn’t the wind. Zantu?
The baby rolled again, fluttering within her as if dancing to a song.
Brianna, I need you.
She spun to face the sea, nearly turning an ankle on the uneven stones. A silver tail splashed the water near the cliff.
“Zantu,” she whispered, the air in her lungs refusing to move. Then, full force, she screamed, “Zantu!”
Heedless of her shoes, her clothes, her footing, she flung the picnic basket aside and ran into the waves. “Zantu
A head appeared above the surface a little closer than before, silver hair blending with the gray-clouded horizon, then was gone.
She stopped as the water reached her waist, sandals slipping over the lumpy bottom. Waves lifted and dropped her. Had she imagined him? She watched the water, every ounce of her being calling to him. I’m here!
A length of silver materialized beneath the mirrored water in front of her, and then Zantu’s naked gleaming torso rose.
“Oh my God.” She stepped forward, slipped, fell into his arms. She threw kisses across his face, gulped water as they both went under, found his mouth to kiss.
He pushed her away, upward to the surface. No.
Gasping and choking, she clawed her hands against his shoulders, feet scrabbling to find the bottom. Why are you here then? Please don’t leave me again.
He rose to face her, helping her stand. She gripped him tightly around the neck. Wrapped her legs around his hips. I won’t let you go. You have to take me with you.
Chuckling against her hair, he shifted his hands down around to support her bottom and began moving to shore. He stumbled once but caught himself. He was walking to shore.
Brianna nearly let go. “What…”
I’m here for you, angelfish. It’s your time to share magic with me.
Rising out of the water like an ancient god, he carried her toward the cliff.
“You’re human!” She found herself speaking the words as she thought them. Still in shock, she lowered her feet to the ground to make him stop. “Are you really here to stay?”
“Yes.” He used his real voice this time instead of only his mind. The word, although accented, was clear and deep and sexy as hell.
She stepped back, her gaze roving over his broad shoulders to his well-muscled stomach and lower, to where his member stood at half-mast amid sparse silver curls. Where his tail had been he now had perfect, athletic legs. Her attention returned to his cock. “You’re naked! And you’re a man.”
His cock twitched in response, rising to attention. “Yes, I am.”
Tempting as he was, she forced her gaze back to his eyes. They were as silver as she remembered, his lips just as luscious. She raised one hand to trace a finger over the soft skin.
From down the beach, a child’s voice snapped Brianna out of her lust. While her little cove was generally secluded, it was by no means private. There’d be time to explore Zantu later. Lots of time.
“You’re going to need some clothes.” She shrugged out of her windbreaker and wrapped it around his hips. It didn’t cover everything, to her chagrin and delight, so she had to skew it sideways to hide the most important parts.
“Why do you get to undress and I have to dress?” He tugged at the knotted fabric, and she slapped his hand gently.
“You’ve got a lot to learn about humans.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
She took his hand and led him past the curious stares of two children toting kites along the windswept beach. Well, you’re going to get to learn from the ground up—Daddy.
His moment of confusion was followed by a joyful shout that echoed from the rocky cliffs and drew giggles from the nearby children. He swept her into his arms and spun her as she giggled.
Together they climbed the stairs to their nest overlooking the ocean. She’d found her mate. Her true love. The father of her children.
The End
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HAPTER ONE
Black Stevens pushed the brim of his cowboy hat up off his forehead with the back of a wrist and stepped aside to allow the newborn foal room to stand. Dim florescent bulbs hanging from the barn's rafters fought back the night with tenacious insistence. The delivery had gone smoothly, in spite of the herd's concern that Millie was too old for another pregnancy.
Beside him, Millie's oldest daughter, Su, let out a sigh of relief. "She looks okay?"
"Right as rain," he said, meeting her gaze.
Su quickly looked away. In her human form, Su was even more mousy than her horse form, with nondescript dark hair and sallow skin that matched her mare coat. She was one of the few herd members subordinate to Black.
Millie, a bay, bumped her gray-haired muzzle against the newborn, encouraging her to stand.
"What’re you going to name her?" Black asked.
Millie snorted and rolled an eye, unable to answer in horse form, while Su held out a hand to the filly, sharing her smell. "We'll probably let Lori decide."
Now it was Black's turn to snort and roll his eyes. He hooked his thumbs into the front loops of his jeans rather than ball his hands into fists like he wanted to. Since his grandmother's death, Lori had taken over as Lead Mare and had all but declared martial law over the herd.
"Let me decide what?" Lori's sultry voice filled the barn. Black ducked around the stall corner to find the blonde-haired herd leader approaching, decked in what she called her human bling—lacy black bra peeking above the plunge of her red button-down shirt, tight jeans with bright rivets along the pockets, and a big silver belt buckle shaped like the state of Montana. Her shiny New Helens cowboy boots brought her almost eye-to-eye with Black's six-foot-three frame.
"Hey, soldier." She sauntered past him, keeping her gaze locked with his until he looked away like a good herd member. A lifetime of ingrained respect for rank warred with his urge to buck the new Lead Mare's authority. Stallions protected the herd physically, while mares guided policy, and the lead mare’s word was law once she was voted in. Only the strongest herd members might dare to challenge her. His grandmother had demanded respect during her leadership, but she'd also given it in return. Lori was just a bully.
Inside the birthing stall, Lori took a wide stance, hands on her hips. "Well she's a plain-Jane little thing, isn't she? Let's call her Jane, shall we?"
Su kept her chin down and nodded, while Millie turned her head aside submissively.
Black's nostrils flared, but he kept his posture relaxed. "I thought we might name her Ivy because of those lovely stripes wrapping her hocks."
The herd leader flicked her manicured fingers dismissively. "Ivy's for greener pastures. We'll stick with Jane. Come on, ladies. We're heading out.” She snaked her belt off and hung it from a peg near the entrance as if staking territory with a flag, then pulled off her boots. She shoved them at Black. "Put these in my locker.”
Before he could blink, Lori and Su were naked, Lori's upright breasts and perfectly manicured pubic area a complete opposite to Su's natural sags and bulges. Lori slipped into the darkness outside. Su followed close behind, casting a concerned glance over her shoulder at Millie. The light spilling from the open door caught a flash of Lori's golden palomino coat as she shifted.
Millie nudged her new foal toward the exit.
"You don't need to go. Let Ivy-Jane get her legs and nurse." Black refused to call the baby plain Jane. "She should meet your human form, too." Black put a hand on Millie's bony whither, self-conscious about giving a seasoned mother advice, but his veterinary training wouldn't allow him to remain silent. Not only were there dangers like mountain lions out there, but the first few hours of a foal’s life were critical for imprinting, especially for shifter young, who had to acquaint themselves with what amounted to two mothers. The foal wouldn't be capable of shifting for a few years, but she'd have to learn both equine and human communication right away.
The mare's scarred flank flinched at his touch. She turned her head to bump against him with her cheek, telling him she appreciated his concern, but to mind his own.
He sighed and stepped back, listening as the sound of hooves striking packed dirt faded into the night. Stuffing Lori's clothes into a cubby, he looked around for any spectators before he stripped down himself. As a centaur, he'd never be a true part of the herd, and had to guard his secret more diligently than the other shifters, but tonight he had a foal to protect.
Taking a breath, he faced the door and allowed the pressure of the shift take hold.
Renee angled the rented Ford Escape up the dirt hill toward the ranch's gate, air conditioner running full blast against the dry Montana heat. Her best friend, Steph, sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, already bored with the sagebrush-covered hills and stark rock formations rimming the plateau. Decades-old memories tumbled over Renee as they drove: Mom and Grandfather and even Dad watching her ride her black-and-white spotted pony, Cookies; stormy nights when Grandfather would sneak her out of bed to watch the lightning from the covered porch; Mom showing her a nest of kittens in the barn. Happy memories that filled her with regret the closer they got to the ranch.
Grandfather had died, and she'd never gone back to see him. He’d been gone two years and she hadn’t even known. The news had arrived with the detective hired to track her down and deliver the will. Now the ranch was hers, at least for a short while. This would be her last visit. Best to be rid of it along with all the memories, she told herself. Keeping up with Steph's rock-star lifestyle cost a lot of money, and the realtor had offered a nice sum for the property. What did Renee know about running a ranch, anyway?
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